i was so excited to go to orlando this summer because i was ready to be home. it had been a long year–the hardest year–and i wanted to be with my family again. but it was a curious thing to arrive there and realize that my home had been here all along. it feels good to be back. safe. and all this moving and feeling has got me thinking a lot about “home.”

my favorite movie in the world is centered around the same pursuit i’m on: the pursuit of home. and i guess this blog with all the changes is my invitation to you to pursue home with me. not my home; but your own. my hope is that through showing you glimpses of mine that you’ll have a better idea of where to look for yours. and really i just think it’s best if we walk home together.

when i used to think about home, i’d think about being squeezed into bed with my brother and sister and mom. and i’d think about how in that bed we’d laugh and laugh and laugh. the weirder we were, the better it felt. because we were, in the way we only are together, ourselves. and in that same bed we’d watch the scariest of movies. and the scarier the movie, the better it felt. because we were, in the way we only are together, safe.

now all i can think about when i think about moments like that is this time my brother and sister and i all stood around a different bed and the way mom so perfectly asked in the last conversation i’ll ever have with her, “are we weird or what?” it was as if her final words to us were to be ourselves and to be safe and to always be together.

without her though, i feel homeless in ways i never knew i could feel.
i think grief took my home from me.

when i used to think about home, i also used to think about God. i’d think about how being with Him felt like being on the couch during a summer rain looking out the window and holding my favorite book, all while wrapped in my favorite blanket. maybe there’s a candle too and some of my favorite songs playing in the background. with Him, in times when it felt like that, i could say a lot or nothing at all. it didn’t matter because He was enough; being together was enough. but either way, there was always so much to watch and so much to hear and so much to learn. it was all mine to experience. He was all mine to experience.

without her though, i feel homeless in ways i never knew i could feel.
i think grief took my home from me.

but i know now, thirteen months later, that it won’t always be like this. although i feel thirteen years sadder, i think there is home for me yet. and i want to find it. and when i do, i want to share it with you. so i think that’s what i want this blog to be about. i’m tired of writing about me. and i’m tired of writing about grief. but i have this community that has rewarded me with glimpses of home for every ounce of vulnerability i have been able to muster in my brief moments of courage. i’ve let people in, and they’ve stayed. they’ve let me be myself. they’ve let me be messy. they’ve saved me. and they’ve changed my life.

so i’m going to share about those people and hopefully capture those glimpses of home in the process. because those people make better stories; they’re my heroes. they’ve also made my story better by teaching me about the courage of vulnerability and the comfort of community. and how there, in the collision of the two, there is home to be had.

so, will you walk home with me?
i can’t wait to introduce you to my friends along the way.

 

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